


this adored body, swelling and trembling

by Cerberusia



Series: since that night I've loved the malicious child [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Coming of Age, First Time, Incest, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Tattoos, Virginity, Werewolf Sex, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 22:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Derek gets his tattoo at sixteen, when Peter makes him a fake ID and takes him to San Francisco for the weekend.</i> Derek's coming-of-age, including sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this adored body, swelling and trembling

**Author's Note:**

> For Kink Bingo's _virginity/celibacy_ prompt. Since I've decided that I REALLY LIKE knotting, I decided to add in some other aspects of canine-esque sex, such as extended coming and large amounts of semen because, well, that's the fun of writing smut for a show about fantastical creatures, right? The self-lubrication business is entirely my own fault though what why are you looking at me like that D: Title from Rimbaud.

Derek gets his tattoo at sixteen, when Peter makes him a fake ID and takes him to San Francisco for the weekend. He makes Derek drive part of the way there too: good practice, he says, for when he goes to college. This is why Derek likes Uncle Peter so much: his parents have made noises about him getting the triskelion and having him learn what it's like to be away from the pack, but Peter _gets it done_. He knows Peter thinks he should go away for college and learn some independence like he did because it'll make him a better leader, a better person, and he's been considering it because it's what Peter did and he wants to be like Peter, with his mix of easy affability and dogged tenaciousness. Everybody likes Peter, and Peter likes everybody - he's _happy_ and comfortable in his own skin like no-one else Derek's ever met.

The tattoo artist is an Indian man of indeterminable age whose name Derek doesn't catch. Possibly it's never said. But Peter seems to know him, and he isn't phased when the outline largely heals over just in the time it takes him to prepare to fill it in, so Derek's okay with that.

It's early March and everyone else in the city is wearing coats, so they do too, even though this doesn't feel cold to them: lessons in blending in. Derek's never been to a city this big, and Peter has to keep a light grip on his wrist so he doesn't lose himself and start following scent trails like a dog. He wonders what they look like to passers-by: do they look like family? They don't look anything alike, though, and Derek looks old for his age and Peter's only twenty-eight, so maybe friends? Boyfriends?

The hand drops off his wrist and Peter wraps an arm around him to guide him into the hotel. He smells like home, and Derek presses close into his side.

Their room has two beds for appearance's sake, but they were only ever going to use one. Last night, Derek slept in the circle of Peter's arms as a child, feeling the regular rush of Peter's warm breath on his neck. Tonight he'll do the same, but as a man.

He's already taking off his shirt as they get in the door. He's so excited he could throw it over a chair, despite his usual compulsive neatness, but Peter shares his need for tidiness and would just make him pick it up again and fold it, because Peter likes to tease him like that sometimes; so he folds it and takes off his shoes to put them under the chair as fast as he can, then turns to face Peter again, bare-foot and bare-chested. He's not uncomfortable with semi-nudity as a rule - werewolves have different boundaries to humans - but he's acutely aware of the charged atmostphere. Peter looks unruffled as ever, leaning back against the wall to take his own shoes off, but his eyes are fixed on Derek. Derek fancies that his gaze lingers at his neck, his pulse, but that might just be wishful thinking.

"Go on," says Peter, casting a brief meaningful look at his pants. He's only just taking off his socks. Derek hesitates a moment - there's some murky power dynamics at play here, and he wants to make sure he's doing the right thing - but Peter's just giving off waves of calm reassurance, so Derek does as he's told and finishes stripping.

Peter carefully removes his watch, and Derek's gaze is immediately drawn to the prominent bones of his wrist, and then to his broad palms and long fingers. Peter has big hands, and he knows that the knot is about the size of -

Slowly, deliberately, Peter curls his right hand into a fist. Derek takes a shuddering breath.

Peter starts unbuttoning his shirt, as casually as if he were getting ready for bed; but Derek can hear his elevated heart rate, can smell the pheromones he's been giving off ever since the needle first touched Derek's skin. He can feel the way his own body's reacting to those pheromones too: when he stood up after the tattoo was done, he knew that the dampness in his underwear wasn't sweat. He kept clenching his ass on the walk back, pushing at that strange, slick feeling.

Now he's stood in front of Peter in only his underwear, wet where his hole's leaking and also where his cock's hard and standing up straight, dampening the fabric at the tip. It's bizarre, standing here before his uncle with an erection, barely clothed, and at any other time the very idea of a family member seeing him with a hard-on would have killed it instantly - but the erotic charge in the room is stifling, his biology overriding human social mores.

Finally shirtless, Peter steps towards him, reaching out a hand to lay it on Derek's shoulder. The hand feels burning hot against his skin, but in the best way - a hot shower, a hot water bottle, a scratched itch. Peter tips his chin up with a finger - not that he needs it much: there's not more than an inch between them, and it's almost certain that Derek will end up taller than Peter - and looks him in the eye a moment before leaning in to kiss him, just briefly, too quick for him to reciprocate. Derek barely feels it, but the second after Peter pulls back fireworks explode in his belly, and he leans forward to kiss Peter again.

He's never kissed anyone before, but he's seen it in movies and read about it in books, so he does his best to imitate. Peter huffs, surprised and amused, then moves the hand at Derek's chin to cradle the back of his head and kiss him back. He takes charge, opening his mouth a little to coax Derek to open his. Derek just responds as best he can; it feels like the world's stopped.

Then Peter's tongue flicks over Derek's lower lip, hot and wet and promising, and the sparks go off in his belly again. He tries to press against Peter: he needs to know if Peter's hard, if he wants this as much as Derek does. He grabs Peter by the hips to pull him in, and Peter has to stop kissing him to laugh.

"Don't worry, I'm not laughing at you," he reassures him when he sees Derek's face. "I did the exact same thing when your father took me for this." He takes Derek's face in his hands and gives him another quick kiss. "You can touch me however you want: go ahead."

Carefully, Derek hooks his fingers in the waistband of Peter's jeans, and just breathes for a minute. Now he's looking, he can see Peter's erection tenting his pants, just like his own. Seeing it makes him feel better, feel good: he's only a teenager, but he can turn on a guy like Uncle Peter, who's nearly thirty (though he'd insist that he prefers the descriptor _late twenties_ ), though he always seems younger.

He slowly unhooks his fingers and slides his hand down until his palm rests on the bulge in Peter's jeans. He presses, and a muscle in Peter's abdomen jumps. Derek's seen him shirtless before, but never really paid much attention: now he notices the sleek muscle, the powerful shoulders, the light dusting of fair hair between his nipples. And, god, he didn't realise a guy's nipples could be this fascinating: they're dark pink and pointed, and Derek wants to lick them. He unconsciously squeezes Peter's erection through his jeans, and Peter takes in a sharp breath. Derek can feel his cock twitch beneath the denim. He wants to suck it.

"Can I...?" He hovers his fingers over the button of Peter's jeans until Peter nods.

"As long as you take yours off too," he says, which doesn't actually make sense because Derek's already taken his pants off and is only in his underwear - but then Derek pops the button and tugs down the zipper and realises that Peter isn't wearing any underwear and god, he _really_ wants to be touching Peter's dick _right now_. Derek shoves a hand down Peter's jeans to grab hold of his cock, and Peter jerks and makes a choked-off sound in the back of his throat. Derek can feel his pulse through his dick. "Derek," he says, hoarse, "c'mon, let's get these off," and tugs at Derek's pants. Impatient, Derek lets go of Peter to practically rip them off, seeing Peter do the same out of the corner of his eye, then immediately seizes him again to kiss him, a bit sloppily but intently. Peter doesn't seem to mind.

Derek really want to press up against Peter and rut against him, but he knows that if he does he'll come in minutes, and coming without something in him won't be satisfying; he's heard it can make you even more desperate to be fucked, which is the last thing he needs right now. So instead he drops to his knees and takes the head of Peter's cock into his mouth before he can think about it.

" _Derek_ ," gasps Peter. "Oh _fuck_ , Derek." Derek's never heard Peter say anything stronger than 'damn' before. He's both very proud and very turned-on. He can hear Peter's heart pumping double-time.

He's never given head before, nor had it done to him, so he doesn't try anything fancy: just starts licking the head of Peter's cock. He's terrified of accidentally using his teeth, so he keeps his mouth open until he works out how to curl his lips over them. He feels a bit silly, but when he slides Peter's cock through the ring he's created and Peter groans, loud, he stops feeling silly and feels awesome instead. He wants desperately to touch his own cock, but he knows if he does he'll start jerking himself off and he won't be able to stop. He can feel wetness leaking out of his ass, running down his inner thighs.

Peter tastes - he can't describe how Peter tastes. Salty, mainly, like skin, but also like something he can't describe but makes him think of _pack_. To Derek, Peter has always smelled like home. Derek focusses on how hot he is, how hot _this_ is, until Peter says "Derek," again, and pulls him off his cock by the back of the neck. Derek keeps his mouth open, begging - there's no point in feigning disinterest when they both know he's gagging for it. Peter's cock is red and slick with Derek's saliva, knot at the base engorged - and holy _shit_ it is that big, and once it's inside him it'll only get bigger - and there's a flush on his cheeks and down his neck. His mouth is slightly open, and he's staring at Derek like he wants to devour him.

"Get on the bed," he says, hoarsely. "Hands and knees." Derek obeys in a haze. When he's up there, he submits to the urge to spread his legs as far apart as they'll go while still bearing his weight. Behind him, Peter makes a soft noise, then the bottom of the bed dips and Derek feels him crawling up behind him. A hand comes to rest gently on his ass; Derek really wants Peter to squeeze it but doesn't know how to ask. Peter's thumb rubs a few circles in a comforting sort of way before shifting so the tip of what Derek assumes is his index finger is pressing at Derek's hole. Derek can feel his hole fluttering against it, opening and closing as it tries to suck the finger in. He has no control over it and it's kind of embarrassing, but he's too turned-on for the shame to really hit.

"C'mon," he mutters into the pillow, "do it." He wriggles a bit, but Peter holds him down with his other hand flat between his shoulderblades - right over the tattoo. He strokes the top whorl of it gently as he slowly, _slowly_ presses his finger into Derek. It goes in easily because he's so wet - god, he's _dripping_ \- and it feels something like satisfaction, but it's not enough, it's not _nearly_ enough.

"More, please, _now_ ," he gasps, too desperate to care that he's begging openly. "Please, I want it _so much_ -" He hears Peter's sharp, shaky inhale as he takes out the first and quickly shoves in two. " _Yes_." He squirms, trying to get them further inside him: he wants it rough like that, wants to hear Peter make more sounds like that - he can smell how much Peter wants it, and he knows that Peter can smell how desperate for him he is right now, and that's another thing that should be hideously embarrassing but instead just makes him hotter.

Peter starts moving his fingers, and it takes a moment for Derek to realise that he's thrusting them, in and out: he's fingerfucking him, and it feels so _good_ that Derek moans, low and muffled into the pillow but he knows Peter hears it because he curls his fingers inside Derek and finds the spot which sets off white sparks behind his eyes and makes his cock throb. His own knot is swollen, and he's very aware of its thickness between his legs. Peter starts stroking over that one spot, and Derek clenches the sheets in his fists so hard he's scared he'll rip them and makes wet gasping noises. He can't stop jerking his hips, squirming in small circular movements, desperate for more stimulation.

"You're so wet," murmurs Peter. "I'd forgotten..." He's right: liquid is still dripping down Derek's thighs, and Peter's fingers are making lewd wet noises as they move in and out of him, still rubbing his prostate, and he knows that he'll only get wetter still. He'd known that this was what happened to the girls when they went through this, but he'd always thought that boys didn't lubricate nearly as much - couldn't, even.

"Is that normal?" he asks quietly, and immediately Peter starts stroking his triskele again soothingly. He hasn't taken his hand off it this whole time.

"Yes, Derek, it's completely normal. You're lubricating as much as I did, which is to say more than most, but it seems to be a trait passed down your mother's side of the family and it's perfectly normal and healthy. It's good, in fact - better more lube than less." Derek probably shouldn't find Peter's lecture-mode as hot as he does right now: that could make things awkward later. The slight roughness to his voice isn't helping. He squirms: the tattoo is starting to prickle under Peter's touch. "Ah, that means you're nearly ready. I'm going to try for three fingers now, if that's alright?"

Sometimes, Derek wishes Peter weren't so considerate. " _Yes,_ " he grits out, and groans as Peter works in his ring finger. He flexes his fingers, grazing over Derek's prostate; Derek moans, and hears Peter's breath catch when he does. He can't keep his hips still, rocking back and forth on Peter's fingers, trying to get them in deeper, harder.

"My, I could probably get four fingers in you - maybe even my whole hand..." Peter muses, a little breathlessly, and Derek makes a loud, sharp, desperate sound because he _wants_ that, god, he wants it _so much_ , to be stretched and filled with Peter.

" _Peter,_ " he says, and hears Peter swallow behind him.

"Almost," he says, and Derek can smell the desire coming off him, "just one last thing-" And then he takes his hand off Derek's tattoo to grip one ass cheek and there's something warm and wet moving just at Derek's entrance and oh Jesus that's Peter's _tongue_.

" _Fuck,_ " says Derek, because that's Peter's tongue _in him,_ hot and slick, and Peter is making soft groaning noises like he's getting off on this as much as Derek is. "Peter, _fuck_." Peter still hasn't stopped moving his fingers in Derek's ass, and between the shocks of pleasure as he scrapes over Derek's prostate and the heat of his tongue pressing, thrusting into Derek's ass, Derek thinks he might be able to come just from this, without his cock being touched. God, his dick is so hard it's aching: his knot feels like it's throbbing.

"Come on, come _on_ Peter, now, _please_ ," he says, and Peter must get it because he all but wrenches his fingers and tongue out of Derek's ass and seizes his hips, tight enough to bruise. Derek can feel still more liquid flowing out of him, drenching his thighs. God, he's _gushing_. Sure, Peter said it was normal, but it's still kind of embarrassing: like having an enema, or peeing himself. But right now he cares less about the humiliation and more about how it's going to help Peter get his knot in him.

He feels the hot, blunt head of Peter's cock pressing at his entrance, and he reflexively tries to thrust back onto it - he can't control himself, he just wants it _so bad_ \- but Peter just puts his hand back over the tattoo and holds him down while he pushes slowly, inorexably into him. Derek squeezes his eyes shut and opens his mouth to get more air, because Peter is _filling_ him, thick and hot, and all Derek can hear is their two heartbeats beating in time, and it feels so unbearably, impossibly _good_ that Derek is making helpless little cries, _ah, ah, ah_ as he's finally filled with Peter's cock. He should really relax, but he can't stop himself from clamping down around it; luckily he's so wet that it doesn't matter how hard he tenses and spasms, Peter just sinks in easily, opening him up.

"Derek," says Peter in his ear, voice strained, "are you-"

"Just _do it_ ," Derek snarls. "For god's sake, _fuck me_." Considering this is about submitting to the will of an older, more powerful wolf, he's not being very submissive: Peter would be well within his rights to cuff him around the ear and start teaching him some respect. But, because although Peter likes to tease he's never cruel, Peter just lets out a hoarse noise and starts fucking him in earnest. His hands on Derek's hips drag his ass further up into the air, bowing his spine, and Derek thinks he shouts when Peter's cock drags over his prostate.

" _Fuck_ ," he says, or maybe sobs. He knows he can't come without a hand behind his knot, but god, his cock feels like it's going to _explode_. Peter's making soft grunting noises in his ear, which he hopes means he's going to be knotted soon, because he's absolutely desperate to come. The feel of Peter's knot slapping against his ass on every thrust just makes it worse because his body wants it so much. He can't stop making these _ungh_ noises, god, he's so _loud_ it'd be embarrassing if he cared about his pride right now.

"Derek," says Peter again at last, voice cracking, and Derek _knows_ what he's going to ask so he gasps out:

" _Yes_ , oh my _god_ please just do it, do it, _please_ , I can't take this, _please_." He can hardly get the words out: he's leaking precome all over the sheets and all he wants right now is Peter's knot in him.

And, mercy of mercies, Peter puts his hands flat on the mattress, either side of Dereks', and _does_. 

Derek expects taking the knot to hurt: even with all his natural lubrication, it's still the size of an adult man's fist - and it'll swell to the size of a baseball once it's inside him and Derek can't even _imgine_ that, jesus - and the anus may be stretchy but there are limits. But as Peter starts to press in the first centimetre, he realises the point of all this prep, of making him so desperately turned-on: he's so high on endorphins that the stretch not only doesn't pain him, it feels _great_. He finds himself trying to press back, take more, and Peter lets him. He sees Peter's arms trembling - with the strain of not pushing in all at once, he realises. Peter's as desperate as he is.

By the time the knot gets to its widest part, Derek is hardly there. He feels so _full_ he can barely breathe. He presses his forehead to the mattress and closes his eyes, feeling only the throbbing of his cock and his inner walls just opening up, slowly, slickly, for Peter's knot. He's delirious with it: he hardly feels the burn of his hole being stretched, just like he hardly feels the sheets under his knees or his legs spreading as wide as they can go, inviting it in; he feels like a ripe fruit about to burst, like he's floating. He has to open his mouth to let out moans inaudible over the blood rushing in his ears. He thinks he's either going to come or pass out.

Finally, _finally_ , he feels Peter's abdomen touch his ass: the knot is all the way in. Peter makes a handful of small, grinding thrusts, and comes. Derek can feel the hot liquid filling him up, and the knot expanding further to keep it in. Peter's making groaning noises into his ear: he'll come for a minute, maybe longer, and Derek can't wait that long so he seizes his own cock at the base, behind the knot, and that's all he needs to tip over the edge and come. The white lights go off behind his eyes, following by flashing black ones, and he comes so hard it's almost painful. He jerks all the way through it, making the knot shift and Peter's cock rub against his prostate again, sending agonisingly pleasurable jolts up his spine.

He comes back to himself to find Peter draped over him, breathing hard. The knot's still in him, of course: it'll stay expanded for at least twenty minutes, tying them together and keeping Peter's come inside him. Derek can feel it inside him; it's strangely comforting.

Ideally, he'd like to somehow edge out of the wet spot and go to sleep, but between Derek's ass producing ridiculous amounts of lube and him coming like a dog and thus producing ridiculous amounts of semen, they've absolutely soaked the bed: the entire thing duvet and doubtless the mattress beneath _is_ the wet spot. And there's no way they can move to the other bed tied together and sleepy without it looking like a comedy sketch. So Derek resigns himself: he's tired enough that he'll fall asleep anyway, just like this, not even under the sheets, with Peter on top on him, still knotted.

"Oh look," murmurs Peter sleepily, "we've ruined the bed." Derek snorts.

"Did you do that too?" he asks. He suspects he knows the answer.

" _Oh_ , yes." Peter grins against his shoulder. "Except we also broke the frame." A little sleep-clumsy, he gropes the duvet for a moment before finding Derek's right hand, and gently entwines their fingers.

Derek drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
